


Thursday Night Trivia (Wesen Style!)

by adelindschade



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: F/M, Game Night, Gen, Grimm - Freeform, Hexenbiest, Mainly dialogue, Marie Laveau - Freeform, Sleepy Hollow - Freeform, anne boleyn - Freeform, chatter piece, headless horseman - Freeform, mixing lore, musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 08:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20672654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelindschade/pseuds/adelindschade
Summary: Nick thinks he's heard about everything - but somehow, the Legend of Sleepy Hollow steers the conversation into something else entirely - and he's learns something new everyday.





	Thursday Night Trivia (Wesen Style!)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a small chatter piece to help my mind get out of a rut; I like the idea of mincing Grimm Lore with Legends we know and love. Will likely open doors for other small side projects as I have a few other collaborations in mind. 
> 
> If brought to poll, what would be more interesting:   
A) the elaborate world of the Fae (or why the wesen world fear them so much - pretty intricate, underworld, mafia style vibes);  
B) the curse of a wraith (even though Nick is skeptical of their existence, some coincidences are hard to ignore;)  
C) the Wampus cat (why some wesen are more feared than others - because some become straight feral / a cautionary tale to keep control at all costs)

** _Just some friendly Thursday Night Trivia… _ **

** **

They were making some sort of point, but Nick missed it completely. One moment they were reminiscing on the _Sleepy Hollow_ movies, then the actual legend, and like some comedic cue, all three looked at him curiously.

“What? Is there something about the Headless Horseman I don’t know about?” Nick scowled. “It’s just some ghostly dude prowling New York with a pumpkin head, looking for some poor wayward traveler to chase. It’s just a legend. It’s not a real thing, just a popular story to tell tourists. Ghosts don’t actually exist.”

“Oh my…” Rosalee gasped.

“You don’t know,” Adalind repeated in disbelief.

“Nick,” Monroe broke into a heart fit of deep gutted laughs. “Buddy, c’mon. Seriously?”

“Ghost. Don’t. Exist.” Nick repeated firmly.

“It has nothing to do with ghosts,” Adalind grinned.

“So you know of the story but not the actual origin of it?” Monroe probed.

“We just – didn’t we just discuss the whole backstory of it?” Nick asked disgruntledly, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“Apparently not,” Rosalee hummed.

“How are you not aware of the significance of the Headless Horseman?” Monroe balked.

“Should I?” Nick challenged. “It’s just a legend.”

“With a lot of history you should know about,” Rosalee pointed a finger in his direction.

“History recap!” Adalind charged, pointed a finger towards Monroe. He stopped, mid-way of reaching for another bottle. His eyes briefly widened, caught off guard, before his mouth fixed into a mirthful grin. “What was the intended purpose for Grimms?”

“Grimms were charged by the royal families to control their wesen armies during times of turmoil and political upsets,” Monroe summarized just as swiftly.

“From mild scuffles to revolutions,” Rosalee pitched from her end of the table. She reclined back, thoroughly enjoying the festivities – including her third glass of wine.

“History check for you, too,” Monroe beckoned back towards the blonde, “what year did the American revolution begin?”

“1765,” she boasted with smirk.

“I thought it was 1775,” Rosalee contradicted.

“The Colonial Revolt started in 1765 but the actual war itself began in 1775; you’re both correct,” Monroe mediated. “And who did the British employ?” Monroe seconded, eyes sparkling.

“Hey – _hey_ – I know this stuff, too; let me answer a question,” Nick butted in.

“Floor is all yours,” Monroe allowed. “Who did the British employ to fight on their behalf?”

“German mercenaries!” Nick exclaimed, showing teeth victoriously.

Instead of his expected response, his smile fell flat when he was met with an uproar.

“What? I got that right!” Nick gaped.

“Yes! You did!” Adalind threw her head back, uttering a boisterous laugh.

“I don’t know what is happening here,” Nick defended himself. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, skimming across the table from one face to another. No one was moved the slightest by the irked Grimm.

“But see – the point we were – the original point – the one we were making – went like this – _over your head_,” Rosalee stammered in between breaths. She threw her hand over her head in a swift motion.

Monroe bellowed a low whistle.

“I’m too sober for this,” Nick rolled his eyes.

“You almost got it, dude,” Monroe encouraged.

“Okay, so, the British hire German Hessians,” Adalind clapped her hands together. “What comes to mind when you think of a German Hessian?”

“I think the point you’re aiming at is the Headless Horseman, like we established a couple minutes ago, but I don’t know what link I’m missing here,” Nick huffed.

“Yes! German Hessian, Headless Horseman, but there’s another! Like a triangle! They are all interconnected! It starts with a G!” Adalind slapped her hand on the table like a drum roll.

“Uhm,” Nick mused. He was pulling a blank. “Is it wesen related? History isn’t really my strong suit.”

“Dude, c’mon,” Monroe chuckled before taking a final swig of his beer. “She’s throwing a t-rex sized bone.”

“Headless. Horseman. Who’s makes a habit of cutting off heads?” Rosalee supplied.

Just like that – a light switch flickered in his head.

“A Grimm?” he posed with uncertainty. “A Grimm?!” He repeated incredulously, watching the rest of them holler.

“Yes!” They roared.

“The Headless Horseman was a Grimm???” Nick exclaimed.

“The British hire a Grimm or two to keep not just their armies but the colonist in check, too,” Rosalee filled in.

“Well, that didn’t sit right with a lot of them, as you can imagine.” Adalind’s face soured.

“More or less, they made an example out him,” Monroe shrugged.

“The whole ‘tyranny ends here’ spiel taken in a greater context,” Adalind mused. “After centuries of oppression and intimidation, a handful of wesen got fed and aimed a canon at his head.”

“One of them was one hell of a shot.” Monroe clicked his tongue.

“So, you’re telling me, the whole time, the Headless Horseman was inspired by a murdered Grimm?” Nick scowled.

“It was wartime – murder didn’t exist on the battlefield,” Monroe advocated.

“And I’m sure he had tons of blood on his hands, too,” Adalind defended.

“And considering even after death, the mere mention of him inspires fear,” Rosalee mused with a head tilt. “I say that’s a win for you, Nick, or rather, Grimms as whole, for, you know, keeping up the reputation and everyone else in line.”

“I guess – wow – you learn something new every day. So, hold on. If Anne Boleyn was a Hexenbiest, and the Headless Horseman was a Grimm; who else in history was famous and wesen?” Nick inquired.

“Do we really want to get started on the Salem witch trials _with her?_” Monroe burst into another fit when he saw Adalind’s face sour.

“Wait – don’t kill me – was there actual truth to them?” Rosalee pondered.

“No – no – and no! Oh my, no, not at all,” Adalind exasperated. She massaged her scalp.

Nick grinned. “Don’t get her started,” he sang lightly.

“Yes, we’re known for mischievous and manipulation but most of the women hung were scapegoats of circumstances. The real Hexenbiests were the wives of influential men who hid behind power. Maybe a mistress or two were caught but they weren’t as lucky.”

“Thank you, Monroe,” Nick groaned. “See what you started?”

“I’m only saying this once because the whole thing gives me migraine. Those trials are a mar on our reputation, as if Hexenbiests had anything to do with it, or that we’d succumb to something as frail as a noose or a barrel of water… or… or… fire, like really? A Hexenbiest would’ve found a way out of it. They could run circles around half the imbeciles playing judge, jury, and executioner. The massacre was orchestrated by the patriarchy who were motivated by greed and their need upkeep outdated and oppressive traditions that limited women – who by the way – were becoming more and more autonomous – or the lower classes that helped line the pockets of those running the town. Those caught in the crosshairs were the poor, the elderly, or anyone lacking an advantage in society.”

“Adalind, Adalind, _Adalind, ADALIND_!!!” Nick urged.

“Okay…” Monroe receded.

“Congratulations, we’ve irked the witch,” Rosalee stifled a giggle.

“You two are so helpful,” Nick complained.

“Sorry,” Monroe squeaked.

“Huh?” Adalind asked, eyes set on Nick.

“You – uh – a tangent, you went on a tangent,” Nick replied.

“Oh, sorry,” she meekly whispered.

“No broken glass, no fowl,” Nick smiled.

“Okay, are we going to finish this game, or should we just call it a night?” Monroe raised a card.

“Let’s read one more,” Rosalee volunteered.

“_Situated in the heart of New Orleans, this historical and pop culture icon is known to grant the wishes of those who scratch three X’s on her tomb…”_ Monroe started.

“Oh – Marie Laveau?” Nick beat Rosalee to a punch.

“Whoa – whoa – have you been filling this one in?” Monroe asked Adalind, startled.

“No, he watched it on some documentary about Weird Travels and I had to hear about it all night,” Adalind huffed. “Salem already had me annoyed but when Voodoo is mushed together with the general _idea_ of Magic, no one on either end likes it. Voodoo is a whole different set up than let’s say, my French or Scottish ass-ancestors practice. Remember, my bloodline descends from druids, granted from my father’s side. We don’t practice live human sacrifice any more, but our skills still deviate on a different spectrum of dark-and-wicked. My mother’s side is a bit tamer; lots of botany and herbal medicines. You can’t compare oranges to apples. Voodoo is just… lots of help from the spirit side. A tit-for-tat, plenty of negotiating with the spirits. But that doesn’t exist if you ask this one,” she thumbed towards Nick. 

“We’re still going next year,” Nick smiled.

“To New Orleans, sure. To her grave? Absolutely not! Why’d would we incur her wrath like that? Leave the dead alone,” she chastised.

“Just like dead, beheaded Grimms, dead witches still earn their respect, too,” Monroe mused humorously.

“Fun fact – Miss Laveau did not call herself a witch, she’s priestess of her own craft,” Adalind harrumphed.

“So Marie Laveau was a famous – err – not Hexenbiest but…?”

“Nah, she was – just a different branch,” Adalind confirmed.

“Oh… ok… got it,” Nick nodded.

“Speaking of witch trials though… did you know Henry the Eight hired a Grimm to execute Anne Boleyn? It wasn’t just because he was a skilled swordsman; it was because he was a trained professional,” Adalind detoured the conversation. “He heard the only way to kill a witch was by a Grimm’s hand – and he wasn’t taking any chances.”

“What?” Rosalee squeaked.

“Dude – how did I not know this?” Monroe gasped.

“Yeah – you didn’t know?” Adalind looked around, shocked.

“We knew Anne Boleyn was a witch, but the executioner was masked,” Rosalee replied.

“He was decent enough to hide his identity from the crowd, as to not stir panic,” Adalind answered. “A real gentleman, too. He may have had his prejudices, but he treated Anne kindly enough to make it quick without a sharp remark. Huh, guess I lucked out with you,” she teased Nick. “Could’ve walloped my head off; instead you took my powers.”

“The night is still young,” he retorted lightly.


End file.
